Strictly Behind the Scenes

Chapter five

Micheal turns to Rave, “Leave us,” she gives a curt nod and strides out of the room.

He pushes the door close with his foot and moves closer to Elle. Gently resting his palms on her shoulder, towering over her.

“Come on babe, tell me what's wrong.”

Elle slowly raised her head to meet his gaze, her eyes glossed over.

“You got a stylist.”

“O..kay?”

“What about me?.”

It looked like a light bulb appeared on Micheal’s head, his lips made an O as he dodged her stare, searching for words.

“Look, I didn't want to distract you from your studies,” his voice was as light as a feather, his words coated in honey.

“Like this work isn't already?” hers was piercing in comparison, laced with bitterness.

He turned his head to the side, away from a broken Elle.

“Don't say that.”

“But it's true,” taking a step back, she broke off his hold and began pacing in the room.

“I am constantly skipping classes because of this. Hell, today I had to abandon a project due on Friday to get here.”

Her voice cracked, “But, but when it has to do with this, that can kickstart my career. Suddenly, you care about me missing classes?”

She stopped her pacing and turned to face him. Her iris bounced in their sockets, focused on the man she was so in love with she couldn't even properly get mad.

“I know,” she swallowed, stepping closer. “I know you don't owe me that, but I... I thought you'd want to support me, the way I support you, you know.”

Elle’s heartfelt heavy tears gathered in her eyelids, threatening to spill. She felt he was supposed to be her biggest fan, to put her first.

He stood quietly for what felt like hours, blankly staring into the void.

“I didn't ask you to do that.”

Her eyes widened, “W..what?”

He diverts his attention to her, eyes locked in on hers. “I said I didn't ask you to do any of that. You keep forgetting this is a job. I pay you to be here,”

“Lies, I am being paid to be your agent,” her chest visibly rose and fell, a single tear slowly rolling down her cheeks.

“But all the extra stuff, following you around and managing your schedule, that is me choosing to support my boyfriend.”

“So no Micheal, you're not paying me to manage you, I am doing it because I love you.” Her lips trembled with every word, choking in a sob with every syllable.

Michael audibly scoffed, rolling his eyes to the back of his head, “Being with another guy and claiming to love me. Typical.”

Elle's mouth opened and closed like a fish in water, her brows scrunched in confusion, her thoughts tied up in a messy knot.

“Another guy? How? Where?..I, What?”

“Don't play dumb,” his Stoic features were beginning to scare her, “I saw the way you looked at him when he came to the trailer.”

“You mean Henry, your friend? I wouldn't.”

“You already did.” He was a completely different person, his rabbit smile vanished, replaced with a look that was in between a scowl and frown.

“I assure you there is nothing going on between us.”

She flailed her hands as she explained, her shoulders slouched over, she could feel the little strength she had reserved leave her body.

It was always like this with him. He’d accuse her of cheating, she’d swear up and down and spend days convincing him it wasn't true then the accusations would come flooding in again the very next week.

“So how do you explain him wrapping his hands around you?” He crossed his arm over his chest.

“You can't be serious, I fell!” She staggered backwards while massaging her temples with both hands. She could feel herself slowly losing her sanity.

“That doesn't change anything,” With long strides he covered the distance between them, his voice dropping an octave lower as he spoke. “Don't think I forgot the little stunt you pulled the day before, walking out on me in front of everyone.”

Her heart sank. Of course, he remembered. When he hadn't mentioned it she had hoped he'd let it go.

“I.. I'm sorry, I wa.. I was just…”

“Hey,” with his index finger, he tucked her hair at the back of her ears, “It's OK, I forgive you.” He flashed a painfully obvious fake smile.

“But let it not repeat itself, hmm? Or there would be consequences.”

His jaw tightened with every word. He had that dangerous glint in his eyes that never failed to shake Elle.

She knew any other explanation she had would fall on deaf ears, so she nodded in affirmation instead of responding.

Just like a light switch, his dimples made a comeback. The smile, a stark contrast to the coldness in his eyes.

“Good.” He turned to leave, “We're done here, you can see yourself out.” Slowly his footsteps faded, leaving her to her raging thoughts.

For some reason, she never got used to Michael’s bipolar tendencies. She picked on her freshly healed scabs. She found the pain was always an effective distraction.

“Hey,” she jerked back to reality, “Can you excuse me, I have work to do,” his stylist had her back turned, the outfit Elle picked spread out on a table, a portable sewing machine within her reach.

“K,” she whispered. Carefully, she walked out of the apartment, taking a brief pause to pick up her bag she had dropped earlier.

Dashing down the stairs, more tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision.

The orange glow of the sun cast its light on her face as she pushed open the double doors, her eyes instinctively squinting, causing a few droplets to flow.

Dabbing them dry, she began aimlessly walking down the pavement, seamlessly weaving through the flood of people in the way.

Some had their nose buried in their phone, others chatted away with their company, the rest just looked like they'd doze off if they weren't moving.

Everybody seemed to be in their own world, both a blessing and a curse for Elle, because while she felt like she could finally breathe, her mind had the opening to go rogue.

She had left her mid-term project just to be told she wasn't good enough, worse, by her boyfriend.

To her, Micheal was the best actor she had ever seen. He was perfect in her eyes. It hurt, knowing he didn't see her the same way.

Her apartment complex came into view. She hadn't realized the sky had darkened.

Nodding to her neighbor’s greeting, she dragged her feet to her apartment door.

With a silent click, her door creaked open, her bag dropped to the table with a light thud. She made a beeline to the kitchen, which was basically in the living room but divided by a marble countertop.

Reaching up to the top cabinet, she slid out a pack of half-eaten sliced bread and barely full cans of peanut butter and jelly.

As she juggled a butter knife in the containers, two frantic knocks rang from the door, making her jump in her skin, the tub falling to the floor.

Her head whipped to the door, brows furrowed, heart beating loudly. She wasn't expecting anyone, at least she couldn't remember planning to.

The knock rings out again, more urgent this time. She ran to her bedside, hands moving in the sheets until they hit metal.

She pulled out her steel scissors, with one final glance at the door, she wrapped her hands tightly around it and reluctantly tiptoed to the door.

Hands shaking, she gripped the doorknob. The dread of whomever was on the other side made the micro hairs on her body stand.